


The Sundering

by MathConcepts



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Begging, Canon Divergence, Chains, Confessions, Dark! Tulkas, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional torment, Eonwe is jealous and does stupid things, Eonwe loves Mairon, F/M, Halls of Mandos, King! Melkor, M/M, Mairon cries, Mairon is a wreck, Mairon is happy, Mairon loves Melkor, Manwe is sad, Melkor is happy, Melkor loves Mairon, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Possesive! Melkor, Public Sex, Queen! Mairon, Revenge, Secrets, Sex in front of other Valar to prove a point, Spouses are seperated, The Valar couples love each other very much, not an au, vengeance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-08-25 05:22:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16654996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MathConcepts/pseuds/MathConcepts
Summary: Mairon successfully invades Valinor with Ar-Pharazon's army.The Valinor elves are captured, and Mairon succeeds in opening the Door of Night, and releasing Melkor, who decimates the Valar's resistance, and takes Valinor under his control, and the Valar prisoners in the halls of Mandos, and takes Eonwe as his and Mairon's personal slave.Melkor's first act, is to take vengeance upon the Valar cruelly, for separating him for so long from the one being he truly cares for, Mairon.The Valar ripped Mairon and Melkor apart, now, Melkor does the same to them.





	1. His Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mairon frees Melkor.

Mairon sat upon the steps of the great Temple, looking out onto the sea. The ships of the Great Armament had long since disappeared days ago on the horizon, and Numenor was virtually deserted.

He was now clad in the form he favored most, a being of pale skin and fiery hair, eyes the color of rich gold, surpassing that of even the band he wore upon his finger. 

   
Wisps of Mairon's flaming hair were pulled along by a strong wind that smelled thickly of salt and death, the tang of recent sacrifices still upon the air.

Mairon had left the temple, to rid himself of the scent of blood. Oh, blood he could abide, blood he could  _bathe_ in. 

But he had grown weary of the blood of men, he craved not the last beats of their hearts as they were ripped from gaping chest cavities, cared no more for agonized screams and dramatic words of offering.

He had made his last sacrifices this day.  
  
  
Only a certain type of blood could satisfy him now. Mairon closed his eyes, breathing in a draught of pure air as the last stench of burnt flesh and wood was borne away on the wind.  
  
  
Today, today he would die. Or today he would live. He awaited only a sign.

 

As the sun sunk low in the horizon, Mairon sighted the ship. It bore Ar-Pharazon's standard, but it was not his flagship. Mairon simply waited, and watched, as he had done so for so many years, so many millennia.   
  
  
By and by, a messenger from the ship came to him. It had grown dark now, though Mairon's gold eyes could see the man's fear as he approached. The man showed no surprise at the change in Mairon's appearance, Mairon could detect even a shadow of appreciation in the man's grey eyes. 

"Tar-Mairon." the man began. "Valinor has been taken."

Mairon knew better than to rejoice at these words, though they had been all he had ever hoped for, all he concentrated upon, and bent his will towards for many years. Instead, he stood, standing tall and proud on the steps of the great Temple. He still now went to war, and not to victory.

"Ready my ship." he commanded.  
  
  
  
The ship prepared for his use bore him across the sea for many days, and he spent them in solitude, neither eating nor drinking, or resting. He only existed. 

 

Mairon was borne unto the very shores of Valinor, and saw them aflame. Blood and death lay scattered across the beaches, and Ar-Pharazon's standard fluttered from every tower and vantage point.

Mairon disembarked, setting foot upon the blood stained shores, seeing what carnage he had wrought. The elves of Valinor had indeed fought valiantly, but they had been subdued by the sheer numbers and ruthlessness of Ar-Pharazon's men, many of the elves had been slaughtered in defense of Valinor.

 

Now, the king of Numenor held them captive in great pens, while he and his men took ownership of their abodes. Ar-Pharazon was delighted upon Mairon's coming, and met him upon the shores.  
  
  
Mairon was sickened by the familiar face of the king. For years he endured this mortal man, in order to wreak the destruction that lay to every side of him. Now the destruction had come to fruition, and Valinor invaded, and the Valar's prized possessions killed or taken captive.    

  
Mairon needed not Ar-Pharazon longer.  
  
  
  
"Tar-Mairon." greeted the king. "We have achieved great victory here."  
  
  
"Where are the Valar?" Mairon demanded, neither praising nor condemning the king's statement, for truly, he cared not for it. If the king was displeased by his uninterest, he showed it not.

 

"They have not been sighted." Ar-Pharazon replied.  A bitter rage rose in Mairon, if the Valar were not present, if they had not protected the elves, it meant only one thing. They were asking for council, awaiting a sign from one higher than them, while the elves had fought and died to bide time for them.

Truly, all Mairon's words to the people of Numenor concerning the Valar, had been founded in truth.

 

Though at any moment now, the Valar, led by orders from on high, could come upon Mairon and the men of  Numenor, to destroy them, or drive them hence. 

Mairon possessed little time for the most important deed he had come to Valinor for. Should this deed be wrought, it would turn the balance. Should it not happen, Mairon would surely die, even be he not outright killed.

  
Beside him, Ar-Pharazon prattled on, oblivious to Mairon's wretched state of mind.

"You shall be sent to seek out the Valar as an ambassador from us."  Ar-Pharazon was saying. "I will give you terms of surrender to take to them..."  
  
  
Mairon remembered another voice saying words such as these, in another time, another place...

 

 

_"You will seek out the elf whelp, as an ambassador, and to him these terms of surrender take..."  
_

 

"Tar-Mairon," the voice of the king broke into his thoughts, "Do you heed me? You will go as my ambassador..."  
  
  
  
"You are not my Lord! You command me not!"  Mairon screamed, eyes flashing molten, threads of sanity unraveling. How dare this man, this creature think he had any claim upon him now? They stood upon the soil of the Blessed Realm, the home of the Valar and the  _Maiar,_ mortal men had no power here.   
  
  
This was Mairon's rightful _home._

  
Mairon turned upon his heel and fled, he had no time to waste upon the king. This deed he had come here to do, must be done, or here, he would die.

 

 

 Taniquetil loomed high and white in the distance, and Mairon ran to it, hindered by no one.

He ran for days, or for hours, though it mattered not when he came to it. The ascent up the holy mountain may have also taken days or hours, but when he finally stood in Manwe's empty halls, all reckoning of time seemed to cease.

He was so very close.

He ran through the halls, down a long corridor, led by an instinct, a feeling, a _call._ He was dark figure of fire and blood, burning against the purity of whites and blues about him.

 

Blues began fading ever darker and darker, until he stood at the very wall of reality, against the walls of night. 

 

And there before him, in the deepest recesses of Manwe's realm, was the Door of Night. Black and terrible, and pillared it stood, stone dragons curling about the pillars, the smoke bleeding from their jaws choking him.  
  
  
Mairon approached the doors, a sudden wetness flooding his eyes and trickling down his face, the taste akin to that of Numenor's seawater in his mouth. His eyes had stayed dry for many a year, he almost forgotten how it was to _weep.  
  
  
_He wept, yes. For what lay behind that door was his purpose, his very life, his _Lord._

He ran to the Door, hands outstretched to tear it open, rip it asunder, to free.

From the shadows came a call unto that of a terrible bird, and Eonwe leapt forward, sword in hand. Mairon looked at Eonwe through the mist of his tears, drinking in the sight of him. Mairon had languished so long upon the shores of Middle Earth, and in Isle of Numenor, that another being of the Maiar, be he enemy or no, was a sight of sick relief to his eyes.   
  
  
"Mairon, stand thee aside." Eonwe commanded, his tone loud and clear, the beating of feathers against a strong wind.

 

Mairon threw his flaming head back, and laughed. 

 

"Do not dare to hinder me, herald." he cackled.    
  
  
"Mairon, for the the love I once and still bear for thee, force me not to kill thee." Eonwe pleaded, though his voice remained strong.

 

Fury blazed bright within Mairon's eyes.  
  
  
"I care not for thy love!" Mairon screamed, slipping into the old mannerisms of speech, as an echo, a mockery of Eonwe. "I want not thy love!"  
  
  
  
Eonwe's sword wailed as it was swung at Mairon, but Mairon thrust his arm over his face, blocking the swing from falling upon him, though it cut deeply into his flesh, a clean, deep slice along his forearm.  
  
  
  
Blood spilled forth, upon Eonwe's boots, and the Maia looked stricken, though duty won over his aching heart, and swung his sword yet again.

Mairon harnessed his strength, the power of fire and desperation that burned within him, and caught Eonwe's very sword in his hands, melting it upon contact.  
  
  
He called the molten metal into his own hands, and with the skill of the Maia of Aule that he had once been, gave shape to the metal, manifesting from the pools of metal, two deadly sharp daggers the shape of flames.   
  
  
The dagger were white with heat, the metal still not cooled, and they burned in Mairon's hands. He welcomed the pain, but Eonwe stood aghast and awed.   
  
  
Mairon could not understand his expression.

"Do you not know who I am!" he snarled at Eonwe, as he drove the burning daggers into Eonwe's chest. Eonwe stumbled back, a cry of anguish falling loud from his lips, a music like no other to Mairon's ears.

He shoved Eonwe away, and sprang forward to the Door. His slim hands closed about the great handles, pulling and pulling, despite the fruitlessness of such an act. The Door must be unlocked before it could be opened.  
  
  
His hands fell from the handles, instead going to dark opening of the keyhole, he placed both hands over it, calling his strength to bear once more, pouring out his soul to melt through iron and stone. 

The ring burned molten bright upon his finger, power also being drawn from it. His hands sunk through the door, onwards and onwards,  melting, burning, pushing aside. 

  
A shout rent the air behind him, a voice that was clearly Aule's.

 

_"Mairon!"  
_

 

The Valar had come.

 

 

And Mairon screamed. He was so close, so very close! He would suffer no distractions now, be they the Valar, or the might of Eru himself. He stayed beside the door, not looking back, pressing his hands ever deeper.  
  
  
Hands grasped him suddenly about the shoulders, wrenching him backwards. Mairon writhed and screamed out, _praying_ that damage enough had been done.

 

"Mairon, enough!" a deep voice shouted, hands forcing him to his knees.

  
Mairon snarled in the Black Tonuge, cursing Aule.  Did not Aule see what must be done, did he not understand? Did he not care? 

Footsteps rang through the halls, a gathering amassed behind him.  
  
  
Voices rose in a throb about him, the husky voice of Tulkas, raised in laughing anger, Yavanna'a earthy tones, the voice of Manwe, like unto a gust of wind, Orome's clear and loud voice, the watery spill of Ulmo's...

Mairon's sweet voice wailed above them all, in anger, in despair, in a last plea. 

"My Lord, please!" he screamed towards the Door, hurling the last of his power into the cry, a primal scream of want, of need.  
  
  
A blow fell upon the back of his head, sending him plummeting into unconsciousness.

He heard not the creak of great hinges, the battle cry of Orome, nor the fell laughter of Tulkas as battle was birthed. He fell, into a blackness like no other, oblivious to all.

He woke, eons, days, hours later, by a cold not of this world. Trembling head to foot, he stood, and looked upon the Void, through the ajar doorway of the Door of Night, felt its freezing aura.  
  
Tears fell once again from his eyes. The Door was opened. His deed had been done, his Lord had been freed.

 

Sobbing, Mairon fell once again to his knees, though this time, of his free will. He was tired, so terribly tired, deathly tired, he wished now to die, content in the knowledge of his success.

He had only a dying request, a boon he begged to be granted to him. He only wanted to see his Lord, only once, only one more time. 

 

Footsteps approached from far behind, and Mairon sobbed out. This last wish of his was not to be granted, then. Here he would be killed, deep within the enemy's very halls, without beholding the fruit of his grief and toil.  
  
  
The voice that called his name was as a sword thrust through his heart, the burn of a molten spearhead, the sear of a whip. Mairon gasped, in an ecstasy of joy, in the pain of disbelief.  
  
  
"Mairon." Melkor said, looking upon the crumpled heap of his lieutenant.

"My Lord, my Lord, my Lord!' Mairon cried.

Melkor reached out, grasping Mairon by the hair, pulling his lieutenant up, up, to his feet, turning Mairon to face him. Mairon's eyes sought Melkor's, dark meeting gold, no words possible for him.

A smile, a true smile, something genuine, something real, curved Melkor's lips.  
  
  
"Well done." Melkor said simply.

And Mairon's answering smile burned bright and high, pleasing to those dark eyes. Melkor's lips came crushing down upon Mairon's, rewarding Mairon with a kiss, of triumph, of _gratitude,_ of a feeling so foreign, yet so familiar between them, it meant nothing in words.  
  
  
Mairon returned the kiss with fervor, with worship. He was home.   
  
  
He was truly home.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Their Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Melkor and Mairon get it on, and are mean to Eonwe.

They kissed, and kissed, til Mairon's chest was burning from want of air. Only then did Melkor withdraw his lips, and Mairon choked down great gasps of breath as Melkor sank to the floor with Mairon beneath him, mouth busily traveling along the creamy column of Mairon's throat, arousal already prominent on both their parts.

 

Mairon sank his hands into his Lord's dark hair, instantly relearning the feel of strands as fine and as smooth a the purest silk. The feel of lips, and teeth more dangerous than those of any beast. 

 

Melkor's hands were upon his robes at the same time, seeking out their fastenings, though, Melkor paused his search upon closer inspection.  


"Mairon, what is this?" the Vala queried, as his dark eyes traveled over the stars and tree embroidered upon Mairon's grey mantle.

 

"It is a standard, my Lord, the symbol of a king." Mairon replied, hands grasping at Melkor's shoulders, attempting to pull the Vala closer.  


"A King?" echoed Melkor, his dark eyes contracting. "Have you then found another lord to serve?"

 

"No, no my Lord, never." denied Mairon, desperately rocking his body under Melkor's, wanting, needing.  "Say instead that I have found a king to _use._ " Mairon amended.

 

"Ah." was Melkor's articulate reply, moments before he tore Mairon's garments asunder, shredding the embroidery of the tree down the middle. "Your apparel leaves me wanting, we must find you proper attire, Mairon." he mused into Mairon's ear.

 

"It is no fault of mine." Mairon retorted. "Mortals possess limited scopes of imagination."

 

"So do you, if you allow them to array you in this garb." Melkor rejoined, teeth catching upon the flesh at the base of Mairon's throat.

 

 

"You do me an injustice, my Lord." Mairon gasped out as he was marked by Melkor's teeth. "My role these years has been of infiltration, as such, my attire is most appropriate."

 

 

"You will infiltrate, and hide no longer." Melkor growled. "Now, your place is at my side, and you will never leave it again."

 

"Yes, yes, my Lord." Mairon cried out.

 

 

Actions blended into a blur henceforth, a mix of teeth and lips, and gasps most sweet, as bodies once so familiar relearned each other.

 

Though, when Mairon's trousers were yanked down shapely hips, a gasp of fear rose into his throat instead, and quickly he rose up upon his elbows.

 

"My Lord!" he began in worried tones, eyes wide in budding fear, at the oncoming thought. "The Valar..."

 

"They have been dealt with." Melkor assured him, splaying his hand across Mairon's bared chest, shoving him against the floor again, upon his back. Mairon lay as such, as his legs were freed from his trousers, spread open about his Lord's waist.

 

"Where are they?" he murmured in question, for he knew, the Valar surely were not to be killed, he looked up into his Lord's face, hands retaking their place in Melkor's hair, as Melkor maneuvered himself over his body.

"Within Mandos, awaiting my judgement." came Melkor's answer. Then came the pain, the agony as his Lord entered him, and he cried out with it, though it was as wanted, and as needed as air to a living body itself.  

  
Melkor's lips pressed against his, a beacon of bright comfort, and Mairon heeded not the pain of the thrusts that followed, caring only for the affection gleaming in Melkor's dark eyes.

Soon, though, by Melkor's design, pain gave way to pleasure on Mairon's part, and Mairon filled Manwe's great halls with his gasps and moans of ecstasy.  
  
  
Mairon's hands clawed through Melkor's hair, reaching his back, nails digging into flesh covered by inky cloth. Melkor's lips found a niche against the crook of Mairon's neck, there they remained, his blackened hands heavy upon Marion's hips. 

Climax overtook them soon, and suddenly, though they minded not. They clung to each other, content in only the moment they both now shared. Mairon's legs remained locked around Melkor's waist, holding his Lord to him, within him, until the heady rush of pleasure had ebbed to a manageable level.

Melkor withdrew from him, and straightened halfway, resting upon his knees as he relaced his trousers. Mairon slowly sat up, feeling the warm trickle of his Lord's seed along his thighs, a welcome sensation.

 

A sound of unmistakable disgust came forth from somewhere behind, Melkor cast a look beyond his lieutenant, dark eyes narrowing at what he saw, and Mairon immediately shifted in the direction of his Lord's look, eyes falling upon Eonwe, who still lay where Mairon had thrown him, knives protruding from his chest, in incapacitating, but non fatal injuries.

 

Mairon's pale cheeks burned with suddenly kindled mortification, as he realized Eonwe had been privy to his and Melkor's coupling.    
  
  
His golden gaze turned to Melkor, fear blooming in it. He had failed to realize that Eonwe had still been present, thus allowing Eonwe to see what he should not have. Doubtless, Melkor would be furious.

 

"My Lord," Mairon began haltingly, "I...I am sorry, I beg forgiveness, I was careless..."

 

  
"For what do you apologize, little flame? " Melkor questioned, voice laden with amusement. "I mind it not that we were seen." Relief quenched the fear in Mairon's eyes, and he bowed his head. 

  
Melkor growled in his throat, displeased on his lieutenant's behalf, upset with the sudden timidity that fear produced in Mairon.

  
  
  
Eonwe rose shakily to his knees, clear eyes fastened upon Melkor in hatred.

  
"It is an abomination that thee dare to defile Mairon in the halls of my Lord." Eonwe hissed.  
  
  
  
"I do not defile him." Melkor answered, rising to his full height. "He accepted me willingly."

 

"It is not so!" Eonwe protested vehemently. "You have been, and are holding him bound to thy will by some dark art!"  


 

Melkor took from his shoulders a sweeping robe of black, and draped it over Mairon, concealing his lieutenant's body, then took Mairon's hand, bringing him to his feet.

"Tell him, Mairon." Melkor commanded. "Tell him you desired me within you."  
  
  
Color deepened upon Mairon's face, but obediently, he responded.  
  
  
"Truly, I wanted him within me, I have wanted nothing else for years beyond counting."

 

Eonwe's face contorted, in agony of hearing, in denial.

 

A smirk grew upon Melkor's face, and he drew Mairon against him, moving Mairon's flaming hair over one shoulder, planting his lips upon the bared skin of Mairon's neck. Mairon gasped as Melkor's sharp teeth grazed the smooth skin of his neck, biting at the vessels that traveled blood through his throat.

  
"Now, now, herald," Melkor intoned against Mairon's skin, addressing Eonwe, "Remove your armor."  

  
"I will not!" Eonwe snarled in answer.  


"Do you then wish to see me take Mairon again before you?"  Melkor said. "I know he would harbor no objections."   
  
  
Eonwe hissed frightful curses between clenched teeth, and began, albeit slowly, to remove his armor, first pulling from his chest with a scream of terrible pain, the knives lodged therein, then removing breastplate and pauldrons, vambraces and gauntlets, and greaves, placing them in pile.

Melkor looked upon the silver armor in satisfaction.  
  
  
"Mairon." he said. "Make a chain for your fair admirer."

 

Mairon set to work with fervor, calling his power once more into his hands, ring burning bright as he melted the exquisitely constructed silver armor, letting it pool molten on the floor.

 

From this white hot puddle, he called forth slender and interlocking links, a long, thin chain of the brightest silver, the color he remembered the roof of the Temple in Numenor to be once. 

  
When the last drop of molten metal formed the last link, Mairon presented the chain to Melkor. Melkor looked upon it, eyes hardly seeing it, instead noting the band of pure gold upon Mairon's slim finger, that still glowed bright upon its carved lettering.  
  
  
"What is this new adornment of yours?" he questioned Mairon.  
  
  
Mairon held aloft his slender hand, glancing down upon the ring.  
  
  
"It bears a tale it might please you to hear."  Mairon replied, memories flashing in his mind's eye, a dark haired elf, a forge, a body, mutilated and broken, and mounted upon a post...

"I then look forward to hearing this tale." Melkor replied in intrigue. "But come, we must not forget our hospitality."

Taking the chain from Mairon, Melkor looped it about Eonwe's neck, keeping grasp of the other end of it, he pulled Eonwe along as one might a wayward beast.

 

"Come." Melkor beckoned, taking Mairon's slim hand. "There is a trial we must attend."   
  
  
They three left Manwe's halls, leaving behind the Door of Night. As they passed, Mairon beheld the signs of fierce battle among the white and blue halls, blood spilled in fearfully large pools, and draping the walls crimson, many a lesser Maia's body ripped violently to pieces.   
  
  
Pride rose high within Mairon, for his Lord had been the victor of such a great struggle, and a smile, prideful, and beautiful, adorned his face.   
  
  
Eonwe wept, and Mairon was stirred to no sympathy, this indeed, was what the Maia deserved to bear witness to, this destruction of his realm, just as Mairon had borne witness to the destruction of Angband, and had wept in secret among its very ruins.  
  
  
  
Melkor and Mairon descended down Taniquetil, as Manwe and Varda might have done, hand in hand. Eonwe was dragged behind them, the first loot of a terrible war.

 

They came level to the green grass of the plains of Valinor, and looked out upon Valinor, then at each other, Eonwe pitifully forgotten, rewarding themselves with a smile, with yet another kiss, one of blood and want, one hard earned by misery and treachery.   
  
  
They were home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love feedback, so please give some, it helps me a lot, and I'll be so grateful. And big thanks to those who have left feedback.


	3. Their Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Melkor and Mairon walk and talk, and are mean to Eonwe.

From Taniquetil, they journeyed down to fair cities below, where many of the Valar's manses stood. From a vantage point upon a low hill, the three, Vala and Maiar, looked out to the sea, where Ar-Pharazon's great fleet lay clustered.  
  
  
  
"Tremendous." was Melkor's comment upon first beholding the ships. "Is this then what you commandeered, Mairon?"   
  
  
  
"It is Ar-Pharazon's fleet in name, though it is indeed truly mine." Mairon replied.

  
  
"And who is this Ar-Pharazon who built such a fleet for you?" Melkor inquired, casting his dark eyes upon his lieutenant, a look of blatant jealously that stirred fire in Mairon's heart.    
  
  
  
"He a king of men, the greatest king." Mairon replied, emphasis laden on the word _greatest_ , a calculated jab.  
  
  
  
  
Mairon's words had their intended effect, Melkor's hand grasped the back of neck, his fingers tight.  
  
  
"And what favor did you preform for this _greatest king,_ that he would issue such a boon in return?" Melkor hissed.  
  


Laughter sparked in Mairon's eyes.  
  


"I spoke to him, my Lord, advised him. I did not lay with him, if such is your concern."

 

Melkor growled, and the laughter danced in Mairon's eyes.

 

"Curb your impudent tonuge, precious." Melkor reprimanded, though his voice bore no anger. "Now tell me, what kingdom does this _mortal_ _king_ rule?"

 

"His sovereignty is the Isle of Numenor, and countless outposts not upon the Isle, My Lord." Mairon conceded to reply. "I am known in that land as Tar-Mairon, High Priest and the King's Right Wing."  
  
  
  
"High Priest?" Melkor repeated pointedly, though his hand released it's hold upon Mairon's neck, charred fingers brushing the skin in a light caress.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Yes, my Lord, a great temple I contrived to be built in your name, and for years, the blood of countless mortals was shed therein for your favor." revealed Mairon.

 

"Would I had been there to see such a thing." Melkor sighed, in something akin to longing.  
  
  
  
A groan of horror came from Eonwe's lips, and both Mairon and Melkor cast him glances over their shoulders.   
  
  
  
"Uinen of the waters, and Eonwe here, were instrumental in teaching these mortals at the founding of their kingdom." Mairon relayed. "If you take interest in these men, doubtless Eonwe shall provide you with much knowledge of their early days."

 

"I care not for such mortals, only the actions you had among them." Melkor said.

 

Mairon dipped his head in a bow, to hide the pleasure that tugged the corners of his lips upward at such a statement.  
  
  
"Ar-Pharazon's forces have taken the elves, my Lord." Mairon added. "They keep them prisoner in newly constructed confinements, what shall be your orders regarding them? And the King and his men?"

"There are no orders I shall give at the present, I have matters of more import to attend to." Melkor answered. "Let your king keep the elves for us, for a time yet."     
  
  
  
"Yes, my Lord." came the immediate reply.  
  
  
The three descended from the hill, and Eonwe was stirred to a bout of righteous indignation against all he had heard.

 

"Mairon, did thee truly commit these acts of depraved sacrifice with the men of Numenor?" Eonwe questioned.  

 

  
"I did." Mairon said.

  
  
Eonwe's light eyes contracted in shielding from the answer, but Mairon gave him no respite.

  
"I have grown weary of mortal men, perhaps I shall then make a sacrifice from the among the elves in honor of my Lord's victory." Mairon mused tauntingly.

 

Eonwe's gasp was as a harried gust of wind. "Thou would not dare!" cried the Maia.  
  
  
  
Melkor yanked the silver tether about Eonwe's neck, eliciting a wretched cough from his constricted throat.   
  
  
  
"Should Mairon desire such sacrifice in my honor, such sacrifice shall be made." Melkor growled.

"Have thee not the last words in what actions shall be taken in thy name?" Eonwe sneered back, rapidly regaining his feathery voice.    
  
  
  
"You display ignorance of great heights in such thought. My lieutenant has won for himself everlasting favor in my eyes for his deeds upon this day, should he want of anything, promptly shall he receive it." Melkor elaborated. 

 

 

Mairon's honeyed voice broke in, addressing both his companions.

"My Lord, it is you who indeed do me a great honor by your favor." A sly look was directed at Eonwe from under lashes of fire. "When has your Lord ever honored you thus, herald?" 

 

"I do not demand the blood of innocents to be spilled in twisted ritual." Eonwe spat.

 

 

"Quite so, your capacity for the things of festival is so very shallow and dull." Mairon retorted.  "You may serve as the first sacrifice, to improve your disposition of such."  
  
  
  
'Now, now," came Melkor's voice smoothly, "Your fair admirer would be much more interesting to me if he was alive for time." 

 

 

"As it pleases you, my Lord." Mairon deferred.

  
Melkor pulled Eonwe to his side, silver chain clinking in indignation.  
  
  
"The walk ahead of us will take some time, regale us then with some tale of yours to pass the weary time." Melkor said to Eonwe.

 

 

"None of the tales I know thee would care to hear." returned Eonwe.

 

"Then, tell me how you came to love Mairon." Melkor said, drawing a hiss of breath from between Eonwe's lips.   


 

"I will not answer such a question, for doubtless thee would not understand, as thee have no knowledge of what love is." Eonwe hissed.  


"I have knowledge of many thing beyond your imagining." Melkor said in tones of irritation. "But,  in one matter, I am lacking, tell me, why have you clung so greedily to this love you bear for Mairon?"

 

"It is only but loyalty, to what he one was. Do not ask me to explain such to thee, for the concept of loyalty is also surely foreign to you."  responded Eonwe with ire.  
  
  
Melkor's dark eyes flashed, a storm brewing upon their surface.

 

Mairon laid a slender hand upon Melkor's arm, wishing not for Melkor to become enraged.

  
"Come my Lord, ask nothing of him, I will tell you a tale if you so desire." Mairon offered. 

 

"See, see how eager he is to please me?" Melkor noted, locking his gaze with Eonwe's. "How can you say I know not loyalty, when loyalty itself walks beside me?"

 

 

Eonwe cast his eyes away, chin held high, no answer forthcoming. Melkor's mouth twisted in a cruel smile, and the Vala set off from the base of the hill at a rapid pace, with Mairon beside him, forcing Eonwe to stumble behind them.  

 

They walked, through the empty manses and various homes of the Maiar that dwelt beside the Valar, and on and on, until the dark halls of Mandos loomed in the horizon, a vast hall of shadows. 

 

 

Melkor halted before the great entrance, only looking.

 

"Here I was imprisoned for years, and years." the Vala recalled. "How it feels now to look upon these walls from the outside, knowing my enemies are prisoners within, is joyful."

 

 

Mairon's hand tightened about Melkor's arm.

 

"Here justice shall be at last served, for all the wrong committed against you." Mairon declared.

 

Melkor's dark eyes looked away from the halls to meet instead Mairon's golden gaze.

"For all the wrong committed against _us._ " Melkor amended.

 

"Yes, my Lord, us." Mairon repeated, savoring the words as a morsel of the finest meat.

 

Melkor held up the charred hand that clutched Eonwe's chain, and Mairon joined his own pale hand to it, fingers resting over the silver links, brushing Melkor's blackened skin.   
  
  
Together, they entered the halls of Mandos, dark doors swinging open before them at a touch, welcoming them into the shadows beyond. 

The shadows enveloped them as they entered, and the sound of their footsteps were smothered by something unknown.

Mairon allowed himself to look from side to side, gold eyes seeking to pierce the murky darkness. Never had he been a guest in Mandos's halls, he knew only of it what Melkor had told him.

 

Melkor led the way forward, and Mairon let himself be led by the pull upon his hand, as he indulged in studying the passing architecture.

 

Though, soon Melkor had reached his destination, a great, spreading hall, darker than most, with two seats of black stone the only furnishings, and in the middle of this great room, Mairon's eyes focused upon the Valar, who knelt chained before the unoccupied benches.

 

All eyes looked towards the three as they entered, and Melkor's lips curved up in a fell smile.  
  
  
  
Mairon was merely content to look, wishing to carve the image before him upon his mind.

  
This day, justice would be served.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave feedback, it helps me write chapters faster. Or if you have questions. And thanks to everyone who has given feedback.


	4. The Trial - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aule tries to start drama, and Melkor loves debating with everyone.

By and by, the multitude of the Valar's eyes drifted from Mairon and Eonwe, to focus solely upon Melkor.  
  
  
And in turn, Aule's eyes were the first to leave Melkor, and turn to Mairon.

 

Mairon met the gaze of his former lord, his golden eyes clear and unblinking. He would never be cowed again by this Vala.

But when Aule spoke, his voice held none of the anger, the hatred, the disgust Mairon had expected. Aule's voice was solemn, the timbre of it deep, yet no specter of ire held a place in it.   
  
  
"Mairon, Mairon." Aule said, letting his head fall back, to gaze up from his place upon his knees at his former Maia's face. "Why do you do this?"  
  
  
  
  
Of all the accusations, all the scorn, Mairon had prepared countless responses to, in answer to Aule's words, he was left lacking. Why? Why? Was it not clear _why?_

 

 

"Are you daft?" Mairon snarled out at Aule, anger rising. "Can you not see beyond your own arrogance? Have you been so truly blind as to not see the answer since ages ago?"   
  
  
"The answer I know, and have known since you departed from my service." Aule revealed, voice still as calm as it ever could be. "I merely wish to know if it has remained the same." the Vala expounded.

Mairon's breath caught at his teeth, his anger fading into unease, then into brittle guard.

"The answer has remained the same." Mairon hissed coldly.   
  
  
"Do you then hold to what you professed? That Melkor could give you something I, we could not?" Aule questioned.

"You denied me my birthright, you would have kept me shackled to your will, within your limited scope of view! My Lord freed me from your glided prison, and I serve him freely!" Mairon spat, brittle defenses breaking. "He gave me freedom, he gave me power, he gave me purpose, when did you ever offer me such?"

"Those things you already possessed." Aule said. "You had power, as my smith, and too you had purpose as my smith, and you also had freedom, to dwell with us, and serve our maker. What then did Melkor offer to you that we did not?"

  
  
Mairon's eyes leapt in color, flashing molten.

 

"He offered me..." and here Mairon's words ceased, the answer he had once thought to be impenetrable now overrun by doubt. Aule had never truly, without payment, offered him the one thing he had craved most, beyond all praise and power.

But Mairon had believed that Melkor had, though the dark Vala was said to be incapable of love, Melkor's eyes told otherwise, when he looked with favor upon Mairon. Yet, a treasonous figment wormed his way into Mairon's thoughts.

 

Had he but imagined the affection that gleamed in Melkor's dark eyes? Never had Mairon questioned this, but then, there had been no one to challenge him upon his beliefs in his long years as Melkor's lieutenant.   
  
  
  
Aule's eyes, grey as the darkest iron, locked with the tremulous gold of Mairon's.  
  
  
"Do you still then believe Melkor loves you?" Aule queried bluntly, his chains rattling as he adjusted his posture, eyes never leaving Mairon's. "He knows not love, my child. He enticed you to his service with false promises, he only wished to have you to possess and bed."   
  
  
  
Rage flared bright and high in Mairon.  
  
  
"I will not listen to your lies!" he shrieked, not heeding the dark figure that came suddenly to his side. Melkor had since broken his gaze with the other Valar, to watch instead Mairon and Aule's growing debate. Now, he touched charred fingertips to Mairon's shoulder, but Mairon heeded them not, focusing only upon Aule.

  
  
"I do not lie, my child. Melkor did not love you then, and he will not ever come to love you. "

 

"I will not hear it!" Mairon screamed, to drown the doubts that called out in his mind. The touch of Melkor's fingers upon his shoulder turned into a crushing grip, and Mairon gasped.  
  
  
"My Lord." he faltered, casting his eyes over his shoulder, seeking Melkor's gaze. Melkor's dark eyes were heavy with anger.

"Mairon." Melkor said, voice falsely calm. "Why do you allow these lies to disturb you so?"

"Are they indeed lies?" Mairon questioned boldly. Melkor's dark brows drew together, anger seeping into the shadows surrounding them, his blackened hand rose and clutched Mairon's slender throat, fingers tightening in increments. 

"Melkor, unhand him!" Aule called out, but he was given no mind.  
  
  
"If they are lies, what then shall change in your service to me?" Melkor asked, gaze bearing down fiercely upon Mairon.

"Nothing shall change, my Lord, my service you have forever." Mairon gasped out, slim hands resting atop Melkor's wrist, welcoming in their touch, despite the crushing hold Melkor retained about his neck. "I only wish for the truth. Does not what favor I may have in your eyes merit at least such?"

 

"The truth." Melkor repeated, and the grip about Mairon's throat loosened, charred hand cupping Mairon's chin, lifting up his face. 

 

 

"I am the greatest Vala." Melkor declared, eyes leaving Mairon, and looking towards the chained assembly of the Valar. "I possess power and knowledge above all of you, do you not think that I possess the knowledge of love?"

A soft breath left Mairon's lips. This was his truth. Melkor indeed loved him. Mairon fell to his knees, hands grasping at the folds of Melkor's robes, turning Melkor's eyes once more to him. 

 

 

"My Lord, forgive me, I allowed myself to doubt..." he began, but was silenced, as Melkor hands descended, yanking him to his feet, and pressing a savage kiss upon Mairon's lips. 

Cries of outrage rang out from Aule and Eonwe, and breaths of disgust from the lips of the other Valar, but Melkor did not desist, until he had taken his fill.  
  
  
"There is naught to forgive." Melkor assured Mairon as he withdrew his lips from his lieutenant's. "You were affected by the lies of Aule, it is no fault of yours, these doubts he sought to plant."

 

 

 "Yes, my Lord." Mairon murmured.  
  
  
  
"Be seated." Melkor commanded, passing Eonwe's silver chain to Mairon's hand.  
  
  
  
Mairon's fingers closed about the chain, and he sunk onto one of the obsidian benches, becoming nearly level with the captive Valar, his eyes roving over them, but bypassing Aule. Melkor seated himself on the second bench, gazing out too at the Valar.

 

 

Eonwe walked what the length of his chain would allow, and knelt in front of Manwe, his hands reaching over the distance that remained between them.

  
Melkor's hand closed over Mairon's hand, that held the end of Enowe's chain, and brutally yanked upon the shining chain, causing Eonwe to be flung upon his back ere he could touch Manwe, a high cry of pain leaving his lips.  
  
  
  
Manwe, who been silent and still throughout Melkor's entrance and Aule's words, stirred.  
  
  
  
"Brother." said Manwe, his crystalline blue eyes locking with the rocky darkness of Melkor's. "Do not torment my herald so."  
  
  
"He brings it upon himself." Melkor retorted.

 

"He did no wrong." Manwe objected.  
  
  
"He desired to comfort you. You deserve no comfort, brother." Melkor hissed.

 

In response to Melkor's words, Varda shifted her slender figure, touching her body to Manwe's, a silent gesture of support and defiance that set Melkor's teeth against each other, though he spoke no words to her.  
  
  
Taking Eonwe's chain from Mairon's slim hand, Melkor dragged Eonwe back, to lay at his feet, setting his steeled boot upon Eonwe's neck. Eonwe lay still, fear evident in the ever so little, yet still trembling curves of his body.  
  
  
"He matters naught to me." Melkor informed the Valar. "Yet, he must pay for his crimes."

"He has committed none."  Varda said suddenly, deep and inky voice constricted with veiled anger.   
  
  
"I say he has." Melkor returned, letting his eyes fall on Varda.  
  
  
"And I say he has not." Varda refuted.  
  
  
The two Valar stared at one another, long, and hard, mutual bitterness reawakened in their gaze.   
  
  
"It matters not what you say, I am the one who holds power now." Melkor finally said.  
  
  
Tulkas's brass voice rose before Varda could give answer. 

 

"We outnumber you and your Maia, and the mortal men you have brought to defile our shores we can crush into dust." Tulkas snarled, amber eyes glowing nearly red in hatred.  "Soon, we shall break free, and hold power over _you_. Then you and your devoted follower shall be put back whence you belong."     
  
  
  
"I harbor no intention to give you a chance to do such." Melkor sneered at his nemesis. "I know well to attempt to imprison you all for much time would be a grave folly." 

"Then free us, and save us time." Tulkas suggested, in tones of absolute contempt.

 

"I think not. Justice must be served, for the many wrongs you committed against me." Melkor replied snidely.  
  
  
  
"The wrongs you have perceived us to commit were but measures taken against your own wrong, brother." Manwe said.

  
  
"In your minds, it would seem so, but yet it matters not." was Melkor's response. "Most of your deeds against me can be attributed to the the willful ignorance you cling to, and the hardness of your hearts. But there is but one deed I truly seek justice for."   
  
  
  
"And what may that be?" questioned Manwe, eyes truthfully curious.  
  
  
  
"You confined me to the Void, separated me from what is mine." Melkor declared.  
  
  
"Arda, and it's peoples are not yours, Melkor." Yavanna deigned to respond. "You were sentenced to the Void to prevent you from destroying Arda's sanctity further."  
  
  
Melkor waved a dismissive hand at her words.  
  
  
  
"I speak not of Arda." said the Vala. Melkor's charred hand went to Mairon, settling upon the smooth roundness of Mairon's thigh. "It is Mairon of whom I speak. My imprisonment in the Void served to keep him from me, and such was your doing."  
  
  
This revelation was an unexpected thing to the Valar, and all eyes went to Mairon. But Melkor spoke again, drawing back their gaze.   


"I have decided, that it is truly justice, to make you suffer such a separation as the one you caused me to suffer."  
  
  
  
The Valar now gave no response, pondering instead the dark implications of Melkor's words.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 

 

 

  
  
  
  
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave feedback please, I love it. And thanks to those who have.


	5. The Trial - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Melkor debates more, then gets to the point.

Manwe was the first to speak.  
  
  
His pale brows furrowed over clear eyes, voice the softest wind.   
  
  
  
"I understand not your words, brother." Manwe admitted, eyes lifting to Melkor's.  
  
  
  
"He is mad, my king, you will never truly understand his ravings." Tulkas spat, glowering at Melkor. Dark eyes met amber, for a brief exchange of mutual loathing, before they were turned to Manwe's.  
  
  
  
"My dearest brother," Melkor began in tones laden with false affection, "Spare some effort to think, or is your head filled with naught but your winds?"  
  
  
  
"Do not speak to him that way!" rose Tulkas's voice once again in indignation. 

 

"Do be silent." Melkor hushed irritably, eyes dark flashing, as Tulkas's brash voice crept beneath his restraint in ways no other could.

 

 

Tulkas growled his displeasure at being addressed as such, making to rise to his feet, despite the obstacles of his heavy chains and weights he was adorned with, til Nessa murmured words upon a low breath into his ear, and Tulkas receded, repressed anger holding him rigid. 

 

 

Melkor relinquished Eonwe's chain to Mairon's hand, and stood, boot lifting from Eonwe's neck. Slowly, deliberately, Melkor strode forward, making his way to Manwe. He knelt before Manwe, hands extending, resting upon Manwe's shoulders for a brief moment, allowing the tension of the watching Valar to grow, before moving them upwards, cupping Manwe's face, charred hands black pools against the straight white of Manwe's hair. 

 

Manwe gave no resistance to Melkor's touch, instead, nestling his head against Melkor's hands, an instinct to seek to complete a once familiar gesture.  
  
  
  
"My, dear, beloved brother," Melkor began, the tone of affection returning to Melkor's words at Manwe's small action, words so soft and carefully expelled that it could be believed that Melkor did in truth consider Manwe to be his beloved brother.      
  
  
But Melkor continued, and the illusion was broken.

 

"I mean to take from you what you cherish most in this world. It is not so hard to understand."

 

  
Manwe's guarded mien unfolded, ever so slightly, as understanding took root in his crystal eyes.  
  
  
  
"What then do you cherish most, above all else?" Melkor questioned, laying siege to the unraveling fabric of Manwe's guard. "Be it your eagles? Or your winds? Perhaps the Elves, or your Kingship over the Valar? The truth now, you have no need to hide aught from me."

"It is none of those." Manwe denied, the words birthed in reluctance. "I cherish not the eagles, nor the wind, nor the elves, nor my Kingship, as much as I cherish...the stars."

 

Manwe's words carried hidden meaning, a futile attempt at protection that Melkor tore aside.

 

 

"Varda." Melkor declared. "It is her who you cherish above all else."

  
  
"Yes." said Manwe, his eyes falling shut, head bowing. Melkor righted Manwe's head, blackened hands pressing even tighter upon the sides of his face, his brow touching to Manwe's as he leaned forward, his lips pressed to Manwe's ear.  
  
  
"And Varda then is what will be taken from you, the one who you most cherish."

 

Manwe's eyes opened, his body heaving backwards, his first attempt to thwart Melkor's grasp, blue eyes lighting from within with rare panic, yet not fear.

 

"I will not allow you to put her to death, I will not!"

   
"Oh, dearest brother, I do not intend to harm her in any way." Melkor mockingly soothed, his thumbs flitting over the ridges of Manwe's cheekbones in a contrived act of comfort.  
  
  
"I will only cast her through the Door of Night, and sunder both you and her from each others presence, then truly, when you feel the loss of such separation, justice will reign."

 

  
Manwe's eyes opened wide, horror in their depths.

"Brother, you cannot!" he cried. Beside him, Varda knelt still and silent, a grey sheen upon her bright eyes.

 

A fell darkness crept across Melkor's face at Manwe's words.

 

"There is nothing I cannot do, _brother._ " Melkor hissed, fingers turning punishing, curling about the impossibly smooth strands of Manwe's hair, pulling them taut from his scalp. 

   
Manwe's breath hitched, the only indication of felt pain. Melkor released his hair the next moment, rising to his feet.

"I will do the same to all of you." Melkor announced to the Valar chained before him. "The ones you cherish most shall take my place beyond the Door of Night, and you shall then atone for your greatest crime against me."

   
  
The uproar that followed Melkor's words shook the very halls, every voice in the great room rising in a harmonic expression of horrified objection.   
  
  
  
They were silenced, no more than a fleeting moment later, by a honeyed voice that rose above the din.

"Who shall be cast through the Door of Night, and who shall be left behind, my Lord?"  Mairon asked, his gold eyes flitting over the Valar, then coming to rest upon Melkor's.

"An excellent question, precious." Melkor commended. "My dear brother shall remain within Mandos, but Varda will not, that is determined. As to the others.."  
  
  
Melkor's eyes roamed over the Valar, calculating.   
  
  
  
"You will not take us from one another." came Aule's voice suddenly, a defiance of Melkor, though his eyes looked only to Mairon. "Is this then what you consider justice, my child? You say you love Melkor, and he professes suffering at your absence, suffering you doubtless felt too, if you truly love him. Do you wish this pain upon another? " Aule asked of Mairon. 

   
  
  
  
"I wish it with all my heart." Mairon hissed, hand clenching about Enowe's chain. "It is no more than you deserve."  
  
  
Aule gave no answer, looking instead upon Yavanna, the darkness of their eyes mingling, a sharing of thoughts.

Melkor's gaze flew as an arrow to them, calling their attention with his words.  

 

"You, Aule, shall remain in imprisonment in Mandos for your deeds. Yavanna shall be taken from you, and you from her."  Aule and Yavanna remained silent in the face of this decree, seeking each other's gaze once again.  
  
  
  
  
"To the rest of you, you shall know not who shall go and who shall stay, for there is more agony in the unknown, than in the known." Melkor addressed the Valar.   
   
  
  
Looks of uncertainty and apprehension were exchanged among the Valar, and Melkor extended his blackened hands to the crouched figures of Manwe and Varda.  
  
  
  
"Come." Melkor beckoned. "Justice shall began now."   
  
  
  
"We will not come." Varda said simply.  
  
  
  
  
"Would you then cause the beings who belove you so pain?" Melkor queried dangerously, and upon this threat against the elves, Varda raised her chained hands, placing them within Melkor's grasp.   
  
  
  
"Brother?" Melkor requested of Manwe, and Manwe mirrored his spouse's actions, hands raising and slotting into Melkor's waiting one.  
  
  
  
Melkor drew them to their feet, the three standing tall over the others chained below, a look passing among the facets of their eyes. Then Melkor released their hands, and ushered them onwards with a sweep of his arm.   
  
  
  
"Mairon. Come, and leave your admirer." Melkor ordered of his lieutenant, and Mairon rose, casting Eonwe's chain from his hand, coming to Melkor's side.  
  
  
  
Manwe stirred as the silver links fell, crashing upon the floor with a splattering tinkle, though such was the only action he gave.  
  
  
  
  
Heedless of his now freedom, Eonwe lay prone, only moving when the four passed him by, in journey from the great chamber. The hem of Varda's gown fluttered, a caress upon Eonwe's face as she went past, and Eonwe seized it, the material crushing between his fingers before slipping from his grasp.  
  
  
  
  
He had heard all, knew of Melkor's intentions upon his queen, but there was now naught he or any of the Valar could do to hinder such, except to face their sentence with dignity befitting those of the Ainur.   
  
  
Melkor had halted, one restraining hand upon Manwe's arm, dark eyes glimmering in forsworne retribution, should Eonwe attempt to hinder him.    
  
  
  
"Farewell, my queen." Eonwe said, speaking for himself, and the host of Valar chained beside him, for was he not herald? He took no heed if Melkor should hear him, though indeed Melkor did.  
  
  
  
"Farewell." replied Varda.  

 

 

 "Enough of this farce." Melkor said, grasping Varda's wrist and leading her from the line of Eonwe's sight. 

 

Melkor and Mairon left Mandos by the way they had entered, though it was not Eonwe they now held captive, but his lord and lady. Far above them, Tantiquetil loomed white in the distance, a beacon of approaching victory for only two of the four who now looked upon it.  
  
  
The the other two, a place that had once meant only joy, now would soon mean the greatest of sorrows.

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
 


	6. The Sundering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melkor finally fulfills his idea of justice.

The journey up the hallowed mountain was made in silence, none of the four saying a word, until they were once more enshrouded deeply within Manwe's halls, Manwe and Varda themselves bound to pillars in the room that housed the Door of Night.  
  
  
  
"Mairon, guard them." Melkor ordered, as he affixed Manwe's chain around a deeply blue basalt pillar.

 

"My Lord." Mairon acquiesced, dipping his head in a truncated bow. 

"I must now bring the others." Melkor offered in way of explanation, though Mairon had asked for none, his blind obedience had pleased Melkor, and prompted him to offer explanation in return.  

 

  
Melkor left the hall in a swirl of black robes, and Mairon took up a post before Manwe and Varda, more to fulfill Melkor's command than to guard.

 

Varda did not deign to look at him, but Manwe raised his eyes to Mairon's, his gaze still prideful, though sorrow lingered at its edges.

 

 

"Do you truly love my brother?" Manwe queried. 

  
  
Mairon's breath caught in his throat. What question was this? Though truly it did not matter, he was under no obligation to answer such...and yet. Why should he be afraid to answer, when he stood upon the very cusp of victory? He had nothing to fear now.   
  
  
  
"I do." Mairon replied shortly.  
  
  
His answer caused a  ripple in Manwe's eyes, a fissure in their crystal.   
  
  
  
"I believed once that my love could draw my brother back to me." Manwe admitted suddenly, the clear blue of his eyes shading over, darkened by some memory.

 

  
"You do not love him as I do." Mairon responded, the words falling from his lips despite the objections of his reason. "You seek to change him. I seek only to aid him."  
  
  
"And you have aided him admirably, to the ruin of many." Manwe conceded, though the words had no accusation within them, which placed a wall before any sharp retort Mairon could bestow.  
  
  
"Is admirable indeed not my name?" Mairon said instead, simply.   
  
  
"It is." came the voice of Varda, sharp as a blade, and aloof as the heavens upon which she hung her stars. Silence fell after her words, and the three remained wrapped within it, til Melkor returned an incalculable time later, bearing with him Aule and Yavanna.

 

 

Mairon's eyes went to his former overlords, watching as Melkor bound them to pillars in the same manner Manwe and Varda had been bound.

 

Melkor left then after, returning with Orome and Vana.

 

And then left, again, and again, several more times, each time returning with another pair of Valar, til all of the Valar were gathered and chained before the Door of Night.

 

Last of all, Melkor brought Ulmo, and placed him separate from the other Valar, but yet close enough to retain a clear sight of all that went on.

The Door of Night still stood open, its melted keyhole a gash upon its surface.

 

"Mairon." Melkor called, gesturing to the door, "Mend this." Mairon came forward obediently, hands molding to the metal of the door, his power being called to bear, drawing together the iron he had previously melted through, giving it its former shape. 

 

 

When the door stood intact once more, Melkor waved Mairon away, turning to face the assembled Valar.

 

"Brethren," Melkor began, "Now, you shall at last meet with justice."

 

 

The Valar stirred angrily, and smile, brittle and affected, curved Melkor's lips.

 

 

"Come." Melkor said, gesturing towards the Door, and with this gesture, the chains holding Varda to the pillar fell from about her wrists. Varda stepped away from the pillar, poised and tall and came to Melkor.  
  
  
The cold black of nothingness seeped from the open Door, its darkness shrouding Varda as she approached.

 

"Starfashioner they call you, but I doubt even you will be able to adorn the dark of this realm with your lights." Melkor said, and it was merely a statement.

  
Varda did not reply, her bright eyes staring out into the unending blackness.  

 

 

"Varda." Manwe called her name from behind, and she turned to look at him, face contorting with some deep emotion, then smoothing immediately, her feet shifting, then moving, retracing her steps back to Manwe.

 

Melkor made no move to stop her, and she took a place beside Manwe. Manwe raised his eyes, their lightest blue meeting with the black of hers. Hands lifting, Varda took Manwe's face between them, fingers lacing in his pale hair. With infinite tenderness, though ever so slowly, Varda tilted her head, lips meeting and pressing against Manwe's.

 

 

A shudder spanned Manwe's frame, though his bound hands could not embrace Varda, his lips pressed back against hers, heedless of their force.

 

 

Melkor watched, eyes hooded in unfathomable expression, he raised a hand, holding it out in clear invitation to Mairon, and Mairon came to him, standing at his side.

Varda withdrew moments later, lips thinning into an expressionless line as they left Manwe's, her hands slowly retreating from Manwe's face, fingers hooking about tendrils of his hair as they fell away. 

 

Manwe's eyes never left her, even as she turned and stepped away, walking from him, and back to where Melkor and Mairon stood and then past them, her feet carrying her to the very threshold of the Door of Night.

There she paused, looking over her shoulder, eyes meeting Manwe's a final time.

 

Melkor seized Mairon's hand, the air about him shimmering with repressed impatience, and a hint, barely palpable, of fear, his dark eyes fastening upon Manwe, not once straying to the figure of Varda.

 

"Go." Melkor said.

 

And Varda went, eyes still locked with Manwe's as she stepped over the threshold, and instantly was swallowed by the merciless blackness. A ripple echoed within Manwe's eyes as Varda's reflection faded from them, a reaction which Melkor's gaze hungrily devoured.

 

 

Mairon's own eyes flamed bright, in a terrible glee, and Melkor's blackened hand closed about his, his other hand waving towards the remaining Valar, and Yavanna's chains fell from her.

 

Her hands loosened, Yavanna turned to Aule, hands cradling his head, their foreheads coming together, breath intermingling. His eyes dimming, Mairon watched the two, unable to tear his eyes away, even when Melkor turned an inquisitive gaze on him.  

 

 

Even when Yavanna stepped back, Mairon's eyes remained upon Aule, as Melkor's had upon Manwe, not witnessing Yavanna's journey through the Door, letting Aule be witness for him, the pain that broke across Aule's face confirmation that Yavanna had crossed the Door.

 

 

  
Indeed, Mairon did not deign to witness any of the Valar's departures, though Melkor was privy to each and every one, Mairon was instead content to watch only their goodbyes, chest tight with something akin to bitterness.

A goodbye was a thing he had not been permitted when the Valar had taken Melkor. And so he watched.

 

  
  
  
  
The chains fell one after the other, looks of horror crossing the Valar's faces when they realized who of each pair was to leave, and so their goodbyes were made even more agonizing than Manwe and Varda's or Aule and Yavanna's.

Orome embraced Vana when his chains fell, burying his face into the waves of her golden hair, then lifting her head with a soft touch, whispering soft words to her, and her to him, til he pulled away, and went to the Door.

 

Then Lorien was freed, and he shared a long gaze with Este, his eyes melding with the gray of hers, his hands resting gently upon her shoulders, placing a single kiss upon her forehead, then bowing his head so she could bestow the same.

The chains fell from Vaire's wrists next, and she held her hands to Namo's lips, who kissed her fingertips softly, then threw his head back to look into her face as she ran her spindly, nimble fingers through the sheer fall of his hair, then raised them to her head, lifting her veils, and leaving a light, though physicallycold kiss upon Namo's cheek, tears streaming from her eyes as she did. 

 

Then finally Nessa was unchained, Tulkas's roar of helpless anger shook the hall. Nessa cupped the side of Tulkas's face in one hand, the touch silencing him, and the kiss they then shared was a rough as Tulkas, but as swift as Nessa. When they broke apart Tulkas's eyes remained affixed on Nessa's face, retaining every detail of her face, the richly colored eyes and brown speckles that adorned her cheeks.

 

 

 

 Nessa's feet disappeared at last over through the Door, and Melkor grasped the handle of the Door, his eyes sweeping over the distraught and silent Valar before coming to rest once more upon Manwe. 

Manwe held Melkor's gaze for a fleeting moment, before turning his eyes to the Door, seeking to penetrate the darkness that yawned beyond it, doubtless searching for a final glimpse of Varda.

 Melkor's fingers tightened about the handle, then released, his hand splaying across the iron surface of the Door, and firmly planting his feet, he shoved against the Door with the flat of his hand.

 

Momentum was slow to gather, though gather it did, and with a groaning creak from its great hinges, the Door swung shut, nesting in its frame with a resounding boom of metal against stone. 

Melkor's eyes flashed to Manwe's, beholding in full the anguish that flooded the Vala's face, welling from his eyes in rivulets of tears, warping his fair face with grief.

 

 

A flick of Mekor's wrist sent Manwe's chains crashing to the marbled floor, and with this freedom, Manwe sank down upon his knees, hiding his face within his hands as a wail broke from his throat.

 

Melkor's hand uncurled from about Mairon's, and he went forward to Manwe, kneeling and bringing himself level with the Vala when he reached him. Manwe had surely heard Melkor's approach, but he made no movement to dissuade or welcome it.

 

 

With actions pronounced and deliberate, Melkor peeled Manwe's hands from his face, revealing his tear-stained visage.

 

"It is unlike you, brother, to weep at justice." Melkor said, tones bloated with acidic mockery. Manwe's response came in the form of a shuddering gasp, all words choked by his tears.  
  
  
Holding Manwe's wrists in a too firm grasp that teetered on the edge of crushing, Melkor watched the tears steadily stream down Manwe's face, teardrops alike glittering gems that rivaled the clearest of diamonds, listening to Manwe's hitching breaths, not anticipating the forthcoming words.  

  
"You took her from me!" came the sudden snarl from Manwe, rage springing from grief.

 

"As you took me from my Lieutenant." was Melkor's ready answer, his grasp around Manwe's wrists turning crushing. And Manwe's momentary anger ebbed away, seeping back to the depths of sorrow it had manifested from.

 

 

"You do not understand what you have done." Manwe whispered, finally suffering himself bring his eyes to Melkor's.

 

Melkor's eyes diverted to glance at Mairon, then returned to Manwe.

  
"I understand, brother." Melkor said simply, and his tones were soft, soft as a cloud or a thick sward of grass, bearing no taint of mockery. A sob wracked Manwe's body at Melkor's words, and Melkor relinquished his hold upon Manwe's wrists, his arms going around Manwe's body, charred hands resting lightly on his back.

 

Manwe's head fell against Melkor's chest, his white hair a shocking contrast to Melkor's black robes. Melkor rested his chin on the crown of Manwe's head, encircling Manwe's body with his own, as Manwe gave vent to his grief.

 

"I understand, brother." Melkor repeated. "I understand everything you are now feeling, more than you can ever know."

 

Manwe gave no reply, permitting himself to be held by Melkor.

  
In the foreground, Mairon stood before the Door of Night,looking as bright flame set before a dark window, gold eyes intently watching the two Vala.

 

This was victory.

**Author's Note:**

> I love feedback. So, please give me feedback, it will be greatly appreciated.


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